Drowning In Shallow Waters
by fahtKAHT
Summary: A bottle is useless without the liquid it houses. So when that liquid is drained away, the bottle becomes nothing more than garbage... And they were all left rotting, rotting behind. Edited to imperfection, mood-swings are dramatic.


_Replacement of _Burning Wonderland. Edited for typos and grammatical errors 28th April 2008.

* * *

**Drowning in Shallow Waters  
**_oo_one. Bottle

* * *

A bottle is useless without the liquid it houses. So when that liquid is drained away, the bottle becomes nothing more than garbage, something to be discarded or recycled or crushed beneath ones heavy feet, for the sake of pointless entertainment.

It had gone by so quickly- much like the reported life-flash before ones death. It could be seen that way, if you were one for twisted symbolism. But to Reno, it wasn't poetic or symbolic or rhetoric or whatever other English language technique he could think of. It just went by too fast. And therefore it ended too soon, way too soon for his tastes. Which was strange, considering that in these types of relationships, Reno would've been more than happy to be the first sailor to abandon ship.

Their story had started on that crazy Bahamut day, Reno was sure there was an official term for it- heck, even some sort of memorial day or something, but he just thought of it as the day he first ever laid eyes on Yazoo. Contrary to popular cliché, it was far from love at first sight, it wasn't even close to lust at first sight. In fact, it was sheer and utter animosity on one side, and plain annoying indifference on the opposite. There wasn't that initial spark, that first fluffy feeling- the tingles, the butterflies- none of that shit. Now, if we were to talk about action packed kicking ass, amazing martial arts tricks, grace, speed and flying kicks- then that would be the more fitting image to portray their first meeting.

The next meeting would have happened shortly after, he estimated less than an hour- the full sixty minutes tops. This time, it was smug knowing versus simply surprised, and the tables were turned. Yazoo showed Reno up in fighting, Reno proceeds to blow Yazoo up in a lovely presentation of fireworks and sparkly bits. The scales were now equal, and Reno felt absolutely no remorse. Just utter pleasure in knowing the last thing that was on that bitches face _wasn't_ that superior smirk. The way his eyes widened, the way he emitted an inaudible gasp- it sent shivers down Reno's spine, to think- he caused that kind of reaction from mister deranged and perfect. No, as much as it _seems _like it, the thoughts weren't in any context erotic, it was simply the way Reno felt.

The third time they met, was probably what… a year later? Yes, the commotion about the little psychopath post-adolescents had died down, Edge rose (yet again) from the ashes that had settled and Geostigma was slowly being erased from people's memories. Sure, things were stable- but stability meant boring- boring meant the Turks half the time either had to do paperwork or other menial tasks such as approve building or demolishing permits, inspect constructions and so on. The other half was unnecessarily guarding a fully recovered Rufus ShinRa. This was a gross miscalculation in the division of their tasks, but Reno was never one to get up in minorities.

So when Reno heard the Cloud Strife wanted to set up a meeting with the President, he groaned- on the outside. Inside, Reno was jumping for joy, squealing and twirling and dropping to his knees thanking the gods up there for such a miracle- maybe they would be kicking up their boots and sliding on their fighting gloves. For it was common knowledge, that wherever Cloud Strife was concerned, trouble followed closely on his steel-toed heels

* * *

"President ShinRa, Cloud Strife has arrived and is requesting your immediate audience…" the secretary obviously intended to follow up on the message, but the President deemed the rest of no worth. All he needed to know that Cloud was here, and he was ready. Kapeech, done and done. So imagine our surprise when not one man, but _two _men came walking in. Tseng's eyes widened, Rude's eyeballs were probably popping underneath his shades (this pair had lasted for almost a year, miraculously), Elena's mouth plopped into a rather large 'O' , Rufus' eyebrows went on a trip to space, probably never to be seen again and Reno's reaction summed all of theirs in a neat little package. "What the _fuck_." It was obvious their skills in maintaining a cool, calm façade in front of the enemy had rusted so much; they just dissolved into a pile of brown powder. There goes what, ten something years of honing facial-muscle-control skills.

Silence ensued, for at least a minute, and Cloud's _acquaintance _just stood there, looking as if he had better things to do. Pompous bastard hadn't changed a bit. Fucker. "I take it," Cloud continued "You knew nothing of his survival up until now."

Rufus turned his glare to Rude and the gaping red-head.

"Yo boss! I swear, we swept that area as thoroughly as your secretary would suck my…" A hand was held out almost immediately in front of Reno, restricting him from taking the... _statement _any further and Rude cringed. Bastard just smirked.

"Well, obviously it wasn't as _thorough_ as you first anticipated Reno- or else, Yazoo wouldn't be standing in front of me, with platinum blonde hair and skinny jeans."

"Yeah, interesting fashion statement there pal."

"Sexy, I know."

Yet another awkward silence, "Yeah, you have to get used to that- Yazoo here has adapted to the Edge way of life."

"Well, now that you know I'm alive and so on and so forth, I have a job to get to- which, thanks to _Cloud_…" notice how he didn't say brother- "here, I am an hour late for."

Cloud looked at him incredulously, and the Turk team looked at chocobo in similar fashion.

"You have a job?"

"You plucked him out of the street randomly?"

"Yes and yes. Strife had nothing better to do with his life than kidnap retail personnel. Now if you would excuse me…"

"Okay, this is getting too weird, you guys handle… him. I have a delivery to… deliver."

Ah, good ol' Cloud- never was good with words, or talking, or communicating in any way shape or form- at all.

As Cloud walked out the door, Yazoo followed "you do realize that you are obligated to give me a ride, since you did abduct me…"

"Hold on a second."

Yazoo turned his angular face and cast a glare at Rufus, daring to stop him- Rufus didn't back down.

_One for the Turks! Go boss! _

"What." Spiteful, frustrated… impatient?

"Reno's going to give you a ride." Big, media-reserved smile.

"He's what?" The words took their time registering in my brain, repeating the process over and over again, just ton ensure if I _did_ hear correctly. "I'm _what?_"

"Reno shall escort you to… wherever you were headed before the sword-wielding interruption bought you here" Shinra gestured to his office in a wide hand-sweeping motion.

Yazoo simply looked at him for a moment longer, probably an effort to discern any ulterior motives the president might be plotting under those white over-priced sleeves. To Yazoo's not-surprise, there was more than one secret plot bubbling and toiling in those icy depths, he just could not decipher a single one. Deeming it a useless, troublesome, tardy-causing task- he let it go and continued to stride out the door in high-fashion.

By then, Reno was done with his hissy fit- one reminiscent of the little tantrums that Yuffer… Yaffie… Yuffa chick or something, would throw, stretching long legs to gain some ground between him and the remnant remnant.

"Would you quit walking so fast?"

"Would you quit walking so sluggish?"

It was the start of… a relationship, beautiful not quite the words best to describe.

After that day- which composed of a half hour awkward silence, the only noise breaking air coming forth the rusty car engines, Reno honestly thought (childishly, hopefully, _honestly_) that it would be the last he would see the silver-dyed-blonde head, or at least _one _of the last- however, fate would not let his wish be and the pair managed to cross each other, albeit circumstantially, countless times after wards.

A week later, Reno came to the conclusion that his favourite pair of strangling skinny jeans was worse for wear, simply wrecked- and not in the fashionable, homeless, torn way. Concisely- the side seams were ripping apart in their old age, the zipper not functioning properly and two of four pockets hanging off on their last threads. Needless to say, when he bought the denim apparel, they had been acid wash black- now they were sepia toned brown, _so _not Reno's colour. That very day, he had to sadly don his Turk trousers, headed over to the nearest stockist of his favourite label (or so he estimated) only to realize three steps before the glazed glass doors, that the shop bore striking familiarity and took him down a trip De Ja Vu lane. When the gears in his mind got over the shock, he remembered exactly _where _remnant remnant was currently employed.

He almost turned on his heel and got in his car and sped for the next urban clothing store eighty two blocks away. Yet that nagging, condescending voice in his head (The one he absolutely loathed, hated, tried to ignore as much as possible- Rude named the bitch _conscience_ ) scolded him, once more; "are you really that much of an over-reacting drama queen?" Over-reacting? He preferred the term exaggerated, extravagant, overtly ridiculous. _Drama queen?_ Conscience was asking for a bitch slap or three hundred. Unknowingly going through the steps to gather his guts which somehow had dropped to the polished concrete in that time span of self-reflection, he strode in- ignored the criticizing glares to his Turk trousers and walked over to the denim shelves, quite pleased that remnant remnant was not in the house. He scanned the wooden stacks for black skinnies.

"Sup Yasu! How's it hanging my man?" Ugh, how urban (a more severe case than his own literacy deficiency) - and the guy was what, only a year or so either older or younger than Reno. In all seriousness, how fifteen-year-old high school circa gangster could one get? "Hey…" The voice trailed off in a mix of honey and lemon bitters. Reno could not forget that voice even if he tried; smooth, dark, melodious and at the same time garnished with a sharp pang of bitterness, humorless sarcasm. So mother-fucking Yazoo. He tried the chameleon act; unfortunately, the only jeans that bore any semblance to his mane were the cord maroon stranglers- all the way at the other end of the rack.

What was he doing here again? A giggle… aimed at his legs… oh yeah, the skinnies. For crying out loud, how hard was it to find the black skinnies, there should be more than one shelf dedicated to the mass urban trend of right now, shiva! "Yo man, nice hair you got- what wax do you use?"

Ha! 's if I'd ever tell _you._ "Oh, random stuff- I don't really pay attention to my hair product…"

"Really? Bro, you look like one of those super-Wutaian guys that spend ages on the do…"

Oopht, Tseng wouldn't take that Wutaian stereotype cliché, Reno so wished Tseng was there at the moment, or vampire guy, the one named after the romantic day...Valentine, yeah.

Kick ass _brother._

Even so, the moron was right- how much of his already anorexic pay checks was dedicated to his wax, gel, glue, spray, mousse, relaxer, oil, clay and that other thing- gah, he forgot what it was called, but he had heaps of tubs of it at home…

"I'm obviously not Wutaian"

"But you hair _screams _Wutai… like it _yells _WUTAI!"

Okay, he was honestly gonna shove his fist down this clerks mouth and pull that annoying, worthless, travesty of a tongue out soon.

Sensing his discomfort and mild (extreme) annoyance and murderous temptations, _Yasu _stepped in- "Hey, the register needs some help again."

Quickly jumping out of his look-at-Reno's-hair trance, Mr. Fuckwit groaned and slapped himself, good work Fuckwit. "Oh what? I just fixed that shit up this morning…"

"Well, we all know _you're _the only one with skilled enough hands to fix it up…" Oh the insinuation, this guy was _good_.

Fuckwit left his one-meter personal bubble and just when Reno thought he could go back to his Jean hunt, Yasu… Yazoo, fuck it- there wasn't much of a difference, made his way over. Giving him a once over that would send any straight person swooning (no matter what they had down there, or their sexual orientation), Yazoo hopped up on to a step with grace that was forever imprinted on Reno's brain, he pulled out a pair of the most perfect, wonderful, black skinny denim jeans Reno had ever laid his aquamarine's upon. They were better than his _other _jeans, and those were damn fantastic- he had them for at least a decade. Ah, through the good times and the bad, he missed those jeans.

"Try these on; I'm pretty sure I got your size."

Reno took a peek at the tag and sent a scathing look at Yazoo, "what?" (Remnant remnant rolled his eyes -typical) "They're the same as mine…" then at the offenders long legs, quite twin-like to his own actually… "trust me, it'll be loose around the hips but you honestly need the length."

Nothing, just a gaping hole known as Reno's pie…hole.

"Why am I even explaining myself to you," hair flick "just put the damn jeans on, and if you don't like them- go scrounging around yourself."

Reno pulled the jeans on, with only a small amount of effort (they were skinnies, people skinnier than him had difficulty getting into the blasted things), and fell in love- with himself- all over again.

They were perfect, he was sure if he was in one of those Wutaian shows, little cartoon love hearts would be soaring through his dressing room space by now.

Striding up to the counter, still in the wonderful pair of designer label clothing, he was greeted by the smug- all-knowing, exclusively Yazoo smirk. "I'm guessing you'll be purchasing today?"

"Fuck yeah, ring 'em up."

A laugh, not a smirk, or a grin or a malicious upwards sneer. An actual laugh, it wasn't the most beautiful twinkle or melodious or whatever other fucking cliché about laughter sounds there was in the world. It was just a laugh, a simple, real laugh- and suddenly Yazoo wasn't remnant remnant any longer. He was Yazoo, sales agent at a clothing house, a human being. Not a Jenova puppet, and Reno was sure he was before, but he actually _believed _it now.

"I'm guessing you want me to cut off the tag?"

"Yeah duh, and can I get a bag as well? I need something to put these in," said with pure malice "and I want people to know exactly where I've shopped… you know, gotta keep the street cred up."

"…Right."

And Reno walked out that day, not just with a grin, but also equipped with the perfect set of fit skinnies and a revelation to boot.

Not bad.

After that, Reno- even though still holding much contempt for Yazoo's nose-in-the-clouds ego, uptight and cocky behavior and the face that the girly dude _did _give his ass something to think about after that little tiff they had back in the day- he felt that his tolerance zone for the guy had gone from negative infinity to zero-point-five. An improvement, of course.

However, Reno did not look forward to circumstantially meet with him any time soon. The guy was like a stovetop and he was the pot, Yazoo made his blood _boil_ at times.

Fate rhymed with Reno-hate, and Fate did hate Reno, and so Fate made sure that Reno in that Sunday after his jean hunt- would decide to culturally widen his horizons and entertain the prospect of getting his caffeine dosage anywhere but the commercialized Buckstars and decided to go for the more (or less- he wasn't quite sure) popular social point- Maria Beans Coffees at corner of Kuro and Aka in the Wutai district of Edge. Being completely unfamiliar and therefore 'noob' at the Maria Beans Coffees menu, he decided to simply let people skip past him in the queue. Boy, wasn't Reno feeling generous today!

"Well, you don't look half as bad as per usual in that denim."

_Oh fuck. _Fate rhymed with Reno-hate, and Fate did hate Reno.

It was like one of those brainwashing cheap advertising jingles, annoying- frustrating, _disgusting._

"Hello to you too _Yazoo__._" You cunt-whore!

The fake-blonde delicately opened his wallet "I take it you aren't a regular…" and took out a Maria Beans Friend card with a grace that was never before seen in the area of taking cards out of little slivers of fabric sewn onto a mass textile piece.

"How did you discern that?" You smart-ass bitch. Really, he wasn't getting even more immature. People around him were just maturing hastily. Aging does nothing for beauty.

"I'm sure you don't know the difference between a Mocha-Chino-Chiller-Sipper and a Mocha-Beano-Creamo-Chino."

Okay, what? "Uh… who the fuck does?" Smooth.

"People who've been buying here for the past more-than-a-year" Swish, damn he was good.

"Well, I'm sure you don't know what the difference is between a Triple-Whipped-Vanilla-Tipped-Frappe-Latte and a Vanilla-Triple-Latte-Whipped-Frappe is!"

"Those were both limited editions from Buckstars- their only difference was the… first one you said had vanilla and chocolate sprinkles on top. Otherwise they taste exactly the same, disgusting." Oh, you epically fail, mother fucker! _No one _mouths Buckstars like that.

Reno, hadn't even noticed that they both had progressed all the way to the front of the line, that Yazoo had ordered his Soy-Milk-Latte (no cream), had issued his Friend card and a fake smile to the cashier and was looking at him as if he had a zit the size of Meteor on his face. Bad rhetoric.

"Uh… what do you suggest?" Fake smile, oh this girl was hitting it lucky today. She stuttered "Well, our special is the Tam-Tim-Choco-Wocko-Crazy-Off-The-Hazee…" _God, where do they get these names! _I'll take that. He liked the sound of 'Off-The-Hazy" anyways. Yazoo cocked a fine- also dyed brow at him. "You enjoy drinking the fattening, sugary, disgusting, not even worthy of the title coffee- beverages I assume."

"And you enjoy anorexic treats and tasteless shit. We're even."

"You're a fucker."

"Baby, you know it." Wink, disgusted scowl, hair flick and catwalk it up to the last table in the house, two seconds ago occupied by a couple of giggling teeny-boppers. How Yazoo.

"Reno…?"

Ah, his cup of shit was ready. Grasping the moistened plastic container, and seeing no other alternative, he followed the bee line Yazoo had created to the table closest to the window- giving them a not so great view of a massive round-a-bout, or intersection- the side facing away from the every-day festival known as Little Wutai.

"How can you drink that bland stuff?"

"How can you drink… that?"

"It's good…mm, my teeth feel like they're rotting already."

Silence.

Fuck, it felt awkward- Reno preferred that the glossy little mouth running sarcasm instead of the dry spell of words. Even though the little room, over crowded and wafting with the odor of steam, coffee, pastries and too many people in one confined space; hustled and bustled with noise and activity and radiated kinetic warmth, they're little corner felt cold. As if, in the midst of things, the pair was frozen in time, just to wallow in their own past. The automobiles sped by, a blur of colored metal and tinted windows mashing together, going around and around, turning unexpectedly, changing lanes- or trying and failing to change lanes. Full of motion, and yet, in their little corner the pair remained painstakingly still. They were being left behind.

Goddamnit, Yazoo! Talk!

"What happened to us?" Fate answered Reno's call.

Yazoo, stared down into the swirling abyss of his plastic cup. Frothy turmoil creating whirlpool reminiscent patterns inside the cheap boundaries it was held in stamped with "Maria Beans Coffees". He glared at the depths of coffee as if it would provide the answers he sometimes longed for, longed for so much it killed his dreams and mutilated them into silicon nightmares. Something answered his question- it wasn't rhetoric, but most perceive such a tone to be. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"Don't you remember us before? The power, the glory- the sheer thrill of the fight. Feeding of unexpected delights, enjoying the steep drops, living for more than comfort, for _more _than contentment. For chasing anything, anything but security. Don't you remember living for the moment?" The words were filled with more emotion than any tears shed, or any words yelled, or any scars tat cut and bore deep into flesh.

Reno was rendered speechless, spiraling into Yazoo's enchant. The silver-blonde took the muteness as a marker to continue.

"Look at what we have been reduced to. It's only been a year, and people have forgotten our cause. Our stature. ShinRa is nothing more than a security company. Supplying cameras and password protected systems or whatever the fuck you guys do behind those deceiving doors. Only a year, the world is revolving so fast- and I get the feeling, that after living on adrenalin, we've run out. We're melting into the background."

The coffee no longer had its appeal, the cup losing the temporary warmth. Reno's own has created a pool of condensation, and the drink was ill-mixed in the first place. They looked around; Yazoo was dressed in blue skinny jeans, a loose black tank top and a grey leather cropped jacket. Reno in his new black tubes, a low slung purple V neck and combat boots. They stood out, and yet the room was nothing more than a twister of smells, and unfamiliar, jumbled sounds and indecipherable images. The road beyond the Perspex not faring any better to their senses.

"I guess, we were living life beyond the full." Reno broke out his uncharacteristic reverie "And our meter stopped running sometime ago."

"And now?"

They both smiled mirthless grins, and smirks of nothingness. Their hold on their respective drinks tightening, as if they were trying to hold onto the fragments of whatever they had left- was it life?

"Now, we're being left behind."

The self-analyzation come depressing angst filled meandering ponder did not stop there, and the adage 'Mondays are fuckwits' took a whole new meaning after Reno's reflective almost shrink-therapy like meeting with Yazoo.

"How low have we stooped to."

"Beyond the catacombs apparently."

"This is mother-fucking insane to the membrane!"

"…" Just a grunt.

"I know, its far from our old recruitment processes, but this will have to do. ShinRa's image has undergone radical reconstruction, and this is all part of the rehabilitation."

"This is a load of BS!"

"Reno."

But Reno persevered, he was not going to lie down like a meek little weakling pup and take this without a fight, this was not acceptable, he would _not _accept it!

"No, fuck off Tseng! Do not even think about giving me that look Rude, that goes for you too Elena!" The calmer Turks slumped, a Reno on a tirade was a Reno unstoppable. Even Rufus ShinRa had learnt to adapt to that. "I went through so much _shit _to be a fucking Turk. One year and something, of I don't even fucking know _what _the hell happened to me down at the labs. Another 3 years of training. Another year of painfully climbing the ranks! Then I have to go through with Sephiroth losing his mother-fucking head…" They all cringed notably at the mention of the infamous memory, but Reno would not let himself be interrupted, "AVALANCHE! That speaks for itself… I fucking blew up sector seven. I killed so many people, just to know the targets I was after escaped without fail. Then Meteor! Then Kadaj and those post-adolescent-angst little shits! I went through so much! So fucking much to earn my rightful place as a Turk! My rightful place in this company!" He spared a glance at his colleagues "And so did Rude, and Tseng, and of course- Elena.. We went through shit, and hell, and the lifestream, and fucking Jenova for you- for this fucked up shit."

Reno paused, to catch his breath, to discover that everyone was deep in thought, Elena looked like her dam had burst, Rude's eyes were intense, even through the specs and Tseng's hands were clenched to the tightest. ShinRa looked the same, but Reno didn't let it get to him. The angle of the crook of the presidents fingers had crossed the fine line from obtuse to acute, he was listening- somewhat. "And we went through all this… but now. Now your just hiring some _mother-fucking_**rent-a-cops **to take on new positions in this company. Rent-a-cops. If that's how far we've gone under, I…" Reno's voice broke, he wasn't sure, but it had to be said. "I don't know if I want to be left behind with you anymore."

Tseng ran a hand through his hair. "I agree."

"Me too!"

"…" Grunt. _As do I._

Rufus, ever the quick thinker, shuffled in his seat. "Please, do not be so brash. You, "he motioned to the four invading otherwise empty plots in his office "… are the only people I have left to trust. But, we cannot simply fund SOLDIER or TURK training, as it was intended- we do not have mako supplies, or training grounds, or _trainers_. This is the only way to ensure the survival, and hopeful re-glorification of ShinRa. I sneer at the option myself, but I was left with nought another choice." The Turks were unconvinced, "Just, one month. One month in the recruits' presence, and that is all I ask. After that period we'll take things from there."

There was a palpable tension in the air, choking all the occupants of the refurbished, far less grand ShinRa office.

Reno, though he did not want to be stuck in a rut, had to admit- ShinRa was his home, the Turks were his life- he did not know how else he would've turned out without it. As, horrible as this new term was for him to accept, it wasn't even more difficult for the red-head to even entertain ideas of resigning. It had too many memories, experiences, good or bad. ShinRa was the only thing that resembled stability in his mess of an existence. He wasn't about to lose his grasp around the one thing that kept him even remotely _close _to the straight-and-narrow so easy. He hoped he was speaking for all of them "Fine."

Rufus's shoulders dropped, barely, not even half a centimeter, but enough for their eyes to acknowledge the action- so even President ShinRa was nervous. This whole situation didn't sit well in their stomachs.

Elena opened her mouth, to alleviate the apparent lack of oxygen in the air.

"So when does the newbie start?"

"Three days. His official training begins at oh-eight-hundred on Thursday this week."

"Oh, I so know you've been waiting years to say that…_ newbie_"

"Shoosh, Reno!"

Rufus grinned with the smallest trace of true feeling, Tseng's mouth twitched, Rude- though his head was ducked; his shoulders bobbed up and down tightly, restrained but free.

Elena giggled and Reno outright cackled at his own marvelous taunt. It was nice to know, some things stayed the same. Though those moments were ever fleeting, as thin and fragile as the last fiber withholding on a worn out thread.

For once in his life, Reno enjoyed the never-endingly slow days, sluggish movements and the otherwise frustrating (demeaning) snails pace workload. The rest of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday stretched as far as his mindset could pre-think, he liked it. He enjoyed the last days they had together as official, _true-in-the-blood-and-mako_ Turks. It truly was the end of an era, and though the media, newspapers and ShinRa critics had marked that era sealed about three something years ago, this… this travesty just re-opened and smothered wasabi into a still infected wound. It was excruciating, forget the fact that it was also necessary. The definition of field-work in the Handbook had changed dramatically over the years of ShinRa's downfall; metamorphosing from busting knee-caps, taking down radical activists, attempting to stop the madman(s) rampage to what it was now; surveying demolished sites that were still un-repaired, assessing insurance claims, searching for any fragments of prehistory that would still be buried amongst the- albeit reduced- pile of concrete and steel rubble, and if they were lucky- hunting down traces of the lifestream as not everyone infected with geostigma had access to the miracle fluid. ShinRa had also developed into somewhat of a medical company now- old connections and overflowing stores of charismatic manipulation had allowed for Rufus to maneuver a few medical recruits to be placed under the ShinRa wing- which in turn gave way for the production of a geostigma… reliever. The stuff, created based on samples and research taken from healed victims and the last traces of moisture where the lifestream had overflowed upon the church soil- helped to fend off the spread and lowered the mortality of the disease. The vials was responsible for about forty-seven percent of ShinRa profits, even though the WRO was buying it off them and handing liquid gold out for free.

It helped the company get a good name, and expand its departments. ShinRa security. ShinRa Pharmaceutical. ShinRa construction; slowly but surely ShinRa was building a grand monopolization of the world, and soon they'd come out top dog again. So what if a little humiliation came along with it? It was just a newbie recruit, and they could not get any worse than Elena had been…

_It's a rent-a-cop_, Reno sneered, damn inner voice. _It was Elena, _he countered and was the receiving end of silence- check and mate, amigo.

Yet his six hours of sleep felt like it had been condensed into six ghastly minutes, and Thursday had just bitch-slapped him in the face- the fucker. He fell out the wrong side of his bed, and struggled to walk straight, tumbling into the shower rather than gracing the closed-off tiles with his majestical presence. It was only after he took half-an-hour perfecting his hair (no, it did _not_ fantastically form into the spiky sensation by itself) that he realized he should have saved the styling for the staff lockers because he was about an hour late, WRO had set up this _stupid _thing called _daylight savings_ where the clocks turn back in an effort to help reduce energy usage. And it was today, and he forgot, and Rude probably didn't, and he is now choking in Rude's dust. Lovely way to start the end.

The ride to HQ wasn't any better, since he missed Rude's carpool- consisting of baldy and himself, Reno had no choice but to take- ugh- public transport, and it was peak hour. All Reno could do smothered between a girl with a moustache eyeing him like crazy, and a guy with man boobs and enough sweat around his armpits to fuel the actual bus- was how could people garner so much BO in such early hours of the morning. It was disgusting, and did that hairy chick just wink at him? The bus-driver, who seemingly joined in the universal effort to make Reno's life a shithole today took his bloody time getting to HQ bus-stop, and when he did arrive at the concrete mountain, Reno did not bother even trying to squeeze through the mass of perspiring zombies that served as roadblocks to the folding doors, and just hopped out the window- over the hairy girl- and dashed for the gate. And the passengers looked at him as if _he _was the crazy one. They seriously needed help- psychologically and physically. No one should sweat that much.

"Ah, Reno- we're glad you could make it."

"Smelling like wet socks in a sewer."

"Fuck off, Elena."

"You took the bus didn't you?" The blonde ignored Reno's heed.

"Whoever calls them buses should have a stake shoved up their ass. Those things aren't bigger than a van, and were _not _built to cram fifty two people in!" He flopped into an arm chair, already feeling drained.

"As you know our new recruit arrives today." Rufus dictated as he peered at his team with critical prowess. He was trying to gauge their reactions. Tseng showed no physical movement, Rude simply straightened his stance, Elena's mouth drew an even thinner line- which none of them thought humanly possible, and Reno groaned- not bothering to hide his distaste for the catastrophe.

"He will be here, in approximately twenty minutes so I suggest you read up about him as much as you can." Obviously referring to moderately sized folders that were fanned out precisely on the coffee table. Tseng took no time in collecting his own, and everybody else just followed suit.

"He was born and raised in Kalm, and left for Edge five years ago?" Elena sounded highly incredulous.

"That suggests he was here for the two years before meteor, he would be up to date with the situation then and now."

"Tseng, he was born and raised in Kalm. Kalm, festivals every three days, no ounce of violence- at least not in the Midgar scale…"

"But Midgar was a shithole death trap Elena- and don't you remember that whole deal with Vincent and the underground or whatever?"

"You know what I mean, Reno! He wouldn't be as strong as someone who was here for all the troubled times…"

They all understood, Rude had been raised in the slums, as was Reno. They lived purely on survival instincts, morals never was a factor. Elena's father trained his daughters the Military way when they had both been young, and Tseng was practically Verdot's apprentice and as been serving the Turks more than a decade of his life- even though he isn't a day older than twenty-nine. Now, this newbie was from _Kalm_, who was only here for the climax of the tragedy. He wouldn't be able to hold a candle against the rest of them, the enquiring glared fixated upon Rufus who calmly met their looks with a honey-dripping answer "I'm afraid that I don't see how I can find anyone with as much… experience as you who'd be willing to work for ShinRa. Even the new employees at the moment, were born far from this area and relocated about two years ago- exclusively for our purpose my I add."

Ah, well- he had a point. Scanning the rest of the document, Reno discovered that Newbie was trained in sharp-shooting and martial arts at the KID- Kalm Institute for Defence, fuck- he hadn't even heard that Kalm had an Institute for Defence. He studied law, law enforcement and crime and punishment and had a certificate in… accounting? He was also twenty years of age, old to be a newbie recruit in the Turks, and he has been employed as a rent-a-cop for Allied Forces Guards for two years. This guy was an ant, Reno would be ably to squash him, break him so easy. The whole catastrophe was fucked up.

"_President ShinRa-" _a slightly static sound broke through pensive quiet "_­- The new recruit is here to see you."_

"Hm, wonderful."

Each folder was dropped haphazardly back onto the coffee table, and the Turks straightened themselves out, well… Reno sat up a bit straighter- just a tad. "All four of you introduce yourselves and go pick him up, give him a brief tour and be back in ten minutes, max."

"Hold up, hold up, _hold up._ Why are we picking him up, can't you like, just buzz him into our presence?"

"But Reno, we want to give him the impression that this is a friendly working environment." Rufus was amused.

"But it's not."

"Reno! Let's go."

The reluctant hot-head grumbled something about dickhead superiors, ShinRa and Tsengy-wengy.

Rufus let himself exude an empty chuckle as soon as they disappeared behind polished silver elevator doors and looked at the city of ants below him.

It was nice to know that some things never changed.

The swift descent down to the lobby left him with a sinking stomach, and not just because of vertigo. This was it, officially, Turks were now nothing more than rent-a-cop material, disgraces, pimples on the face of society. God, Reno wasn't sure if he could last, quitting seemed so drama-queen-esque, yet- at the moment, so tempting. He was young, and he was sure that though people wanted nothing more than to decimate ShinRa and what was left of it into ashes and soot; he knew that his experience would be valuable, he had some options left. If all else failed he could make a living as a model, or be a shop-keep like Yazoo or something, he wouldn't mind that… right?

The metal box made a resonating 'lobby' as the doors opened to polished floors, welcoming lighting and a few tasteful potted plants here and there. The trio walked out, sullen, though determined to _somehow_ make the predicament work… Reno just shuffled along and grumbled about fuckwit's, KID, and what-the-fuck-is-KID.

There, sitting in the lobby waiting area- dressed in polished black boots, obsidian slacks, a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and a cropped obsidian waistcoat emblazoned with AFG- was Yazoo.

Reno didn't know why his stomach did somersaults of _happiness_, and not suicidal plummeting of disappointment. _Maybe, somehow- things will work out. _Elena's thin smile, upturned into a cynical… mouth position (Reno had not enough scary words in his vocabulary to describe), Rude's shoulder muscles tightened like crazy and Tseng… well Tseng was grinning, as if happy with the slight twist in the plan. "What the fuck are _you _happy about Tseng?"

"You have to admit, he has amazing fieldwork experience."

"Your fucked." Was said under the breath, because he'd probably end up propelled ninety meters into the sky, if Tseng heard that- of course, after their shift was over. The platinum blonde hair was tied into a ponytail and Yazoo looked more effeminate than ever.

"So, how ironic…" Reno started, there was no point in maintaining friendly façade's with this guy. A; he'd see right through them like they were clean Perspex windows. B; they had a history that would not allow it.

"Please, I would never want to work here." Yazoo sounded spiteful.

Elena piped up, outraged "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that I've been through so much with this company, I don't want anything to do with it." His voice was dark, laced with a malicious tone that dared any one of them to try and fuck with him.

"So, why are you here then?" Reno drawled, examining his nails- he did not want to seem as if he cared about what Yazoo did in his free time, dressed rather sharply… "and why are you in an Allied Forces Guard costume."

"Uniform."

"Whatever."

"Yasu!" bright, jolly, _happy_- clear symptoms of a newbie. A man, no- a youth, no taller than five-foot-five ran through the glass doors, his boots making loud clacking sounds, his breath trying to catch up with itself.

"Here's your guy."

"Thanks man! Oh, and don't forget to pick him up, he lives on Main." The kid managed to respond in between large gulps of oxygen, and dropped a key on a ring into the other AFG employee's awaiting, upturned palm.

"Of course, just call me when you're _done here._" Yazoo's eyes flashed something akin to danger, and Reno was painfully reminded of who he was.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're such a great friend." _Friend? _Elena and Reno looked ready to drop to the floor in hysterics, Yazoo bristled at their reaction; _retards._

"It's all I can do, without you I'd have to take… ugh- public transport." With that as a final word, Yazoo got up from his cushiony chair and walked out the door, with an elegance that could only be executed by Yazoo.

Elena muttered beneath her hand "I swear that guy should be a model…"

"Are you calling him sexy!"

Reno felt like he was watching a nature channel, when one of the scientists take out a fish from the sea and let the whole world watch it cough, splutter and spasm whilst calmly explaining just why the gills were a shade of brown.

"Welcome to ShinRa Headquarters, I am Tseng and I'm the head of the Department of Administrative Research."

Reno _hated _that professional term, simply because they were actually only doing administrative research now-a-days. No more espionage, or assassinations, or kidnappings. None of the fun stuff. Zilch, Nada, Zero.

"I'm Reno, second in command buddy…" He added a spiteful glare just to scare the shit out of the little shit, "… mess with me and you _burn._" Was that a spark of terror? Damn right kid!

"I'm Rude." The newbie- though flustered with Reno's hostility- looked as if he expected more, but Rude decided that the scenery beyond the midget was a lot more interesting.

"I'm Elena, your taking my place as a newbie… _oh!"_

Reno was pounding his fists on the ground (in his head), Elena was still running her mouth when she gets nervous!

"Um, it's a pleasure?" The guy was way too submissive. He wouldn't last, Reno was scared that the most part of him wished that it was Yazoo instead.

They didn't bother with a brief tour or else they'd be late in showing up at ShinRa's office.

The ascent to the top floor just felt like they were dropping further down into oblivion.

To say that Reno wanted to fucking smash Newbie's head in until his neck was nothing more than a black, blue and red stump was a gross understatement. The Newbie tried to act nice, and yet had a natural penchant for being a downright bossy mother fucker synonymously. It was like a constant PMS, going high and coming down from acid at the same time! It was driving Reno up the wall, in the gutter and grating on his mind like those holed drains were being constantly rubbed up and down, up and down on the side of his cerebrum. It did not help that some days, after the work was done (especially on the days when people were just a bit whinier, and the clock inched toward every other line just a little slower), Yazoo would be there and sometimes had another friend with him. His teammates were not faring any better, and in fact were getting twice the migraine intensity- not only because of nice-yet-bitchy Newbie, but also due to the side of Reno-keeps-fucking-complaining that came in the package.

"Ugh! Sometimes that guy thinks he is so _mother-fucking _hot!"

"Newbie or Yazoo?" Elena asked, not really caring whether or not she was answered.

"Ya-… both of the shitheads."

"You're running out of curses."

"Fuck off."

The elevator echoed with the familiar "_lobby"_ before reflective doors opened.

"Hello, mister androgyny."

"Good evening, Reno." Yazoo greeted in return, complete with matching fake smile and glinting eye to boot.

The trio basked in uncomfortable soundlessness that even the receptionist repeatedly kept pulling at her collar, feeling it was too tight. "So, why aren't you gone yet?" Relief in the form of Yazoo, Elena never though it possible.

"Rude's my ride, and Elena goes with Tseng. They're caught up with Newbie in some sort of personal meeting right now." Reno enunciated lazily .

"Newbie?"

"We're not fucked to memorize the dickheads name."

Yazoo's mouth snapped shut, he obviously did not fully accept the way that Reno was talking about his ex-co-worker, but he wasn't in their situation, and it's not like they were _extremely _close- even though he did like to address Yazoo as a _friend._ Yazoo never had friends. Only his _brothers_, and that didn't turn out so well. His stomach plummeted.

The receptionist tugged at her collar, and did so another four times before that minute ended.

Finally, the elevator doors opened, to reveal a lack-luster Rude, a baggy-eyed Tseng and even Newbie looked worse for wear (Reno was absolutely delighted).

"We're taking him…" thumb jerk to Newbie "for night training. You and Elena might have to catch a ride with somebody else." Sly glance to Yazoo, who dead-panned the minute Tseng's eyes found their way to his line of fire.

"Yazoo, you wouldn't mind giving Reno and Elena a ride would you?"

"Actually, I would."

"It's not your car."

"I'm not a driver."

"Yazoo…" The man in question sent an arctic glare to the midget, but seeing as the guy made up for resoluteness what he lacked in inches, there was no choice. Yazoo was tired, and he wanted to grab a drink. It was Friday, and he had loose change for a serve of vodka, or four… make that seven.

"Fine." He sharply concluded.

"Thank you so much!"

"Forget it." _Really._

As short-stuff, Tseng and Rude walked back into the elevator- probably to head down to underground parking, Elena and Reno would have been better off having beach-balls lodged down their throats. Yazoo rolled his eyes, pulled off the rubber-band that restricted his hair and hoped to whatever superior form that he did not have a kink. "I don't care if you want to catch a ride with me or not. Just make up your mind sooner rather than later, because with or without you, I'm leaving… now."

And it hurt, it hurt to hear him talk that way- because the masquerade was gone, leaving bare Yazoo- who he really was, brash, cold, uncaring and manipulative. Lemon, lime and bitters. It reminded Reno a lot of the past '_Are we having fun yet?' 'The time of my life!'_

He didn't really think so at the time, obviously the sarcasm was duly noted, however- now that he looked back at it, considering what the Turks did _now_- he was having the time of his life, anything was the time of his life compared to this rut they all had landed in. He looked at Elena, who obviously looked very uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a small automobile with the guy who tortured her for information regarding some ancient alien's neck. He really, really didn't blame her- who could. Yazoo spared a fleeting look at the blonde woman, a hint of understanding was present in those still ever fluorescent orbs, but remorse? Reno saw nothing. The red-head sighed, refusing the ride, hitching public transport or walking seemed extremely over-the-top prom-night disastrous of him so he nodded; a restrained tip of his head and followed the man out, he didn't notice Elena running to fall into step with him, but he did notice when she slipped her hand in his and constricted her fingers around his own tightly. He still felt a callous, rough, wrinkly patch of skin on her hands- no doubt a scar, no doubt one inflicted by the brothers. Her palms were hot, she was scared; and although the city of Edge was a whole fucking heap safer compared to the Midgar days, no city was safe at night and it wasn't like Yazoo was going to whip out Velvet Nightmare and interrogate them about their knowledge of the last remaining Jenova cells anytime soon… hopefully.

The once-silverette tilted his head slightly, to see if the Turks were indeed hitching with himself, he had hoped that their rebellious streaks would come out in full throttle, and that they would throw a hissy fit about how _no way in fucking hell_ were they going to ride in the same car as this psychopathic has-been. Ha! He was only so lucky, as the pair were both walking behind him, treading as one would if caught in a mine field.

Elena abruptly let go of Reno's hand as soon as she felt that Yazoo's attention had been cast on them both.

Yazoo climbed onto the drivers' seat of the wagon, Reno to his side and Elena was left alone in the back. The trip was in stifling stillness- neither the noise emanating from the car, or the outer atmosphere succeeded in breaking into each personal bubble. Elena had been dropped off first, simply on the corner of her block, far be it for her to actually divulge her personal address to this was-lunatic. Reno, mumbled an impolite, gruff "drop me off at the next red." - it would have been intangible if Yazoo wasn't burdened with heightened senses. The stoplight caused a mini-traffic jam, and without warning Reno opened the door, hopped out of the vehicle and trudged in shallow rubble fading away into the narrowing alley of abysmal black. The light flashed green, and Yazoo felt he was frozen still, the feeling did not dissipate- not even when he reached his own apartment- and in fact only grew when he took a glance in the mirror. AFG; that was all he was reduced to. AFG could stand for many things- Allied Forces Guards, A Fire Gone, All ForGotten. None made sense, yet all strangely fit into his mid-life crisis, at the age of twenty going on twenty-one. He needed a drink, a lot of a drink.

Stripping off his AFG uniform, he ignored the trendy pieces of fashion that were neatly arranged on the hanger rack, and opted to don simple dark jeans, long sleeve v-neck and black coat. Forgetting the keys to the car he didn't own, he grabbed his umbrella and walked to wherever fate might land him. The streets where awash with ominous puddles reflecting grungy buildings, gaudy neon lights and heavy clouds- each droplet of precipitation- along with his own carefully laden steps- causing hundreds of thousands of ripple effects under Yazoo's soles. He waited for the don't walk sign to black out and the walk sign to light up, funny- those traffic lights seemed familiar. Crossing the road, ignoring the cars that waited for him to pass on his left, he followed nothing but shadows down into the depths of a narrow walkway in between two brick structures, stained with algae. The droplets felt a little heavier on his black umbrella, and his knuckles grew whiter when he fisted his hands around the wooden curve as if it would succor his body into warmth- it didn't. He passed by a large gap in the middle of pollution painted concrete walls- knowing he had been there, in another life, before. Downcast little heads, imperfect frail bodies, where had he seen them before… ignoring the spontaneous flashback, he slithered into another tiny path, his feet moving of their own accord.

"Seventh Heaven… you're kidding me." His mind commanded the rest of himself to move, find another place, there were plenty of other drinking holes in this part of town- so how in hell did he end up at _this_ one. But his feet stayed rooted firmly in the murky puddle, as if he were either glued to the gathering of rainfall or he was magnetized to the familiar bar's front door. He sighed "everything happens for some fucking reason…" and against all the warning signals in his head, and even his own very reasonable and trustworthy conscience- he walked in. Finding solace in the fact that the bar was barely populated, an odd couple here, a recluse there and absolutely no rowdy drunks (and no spiky haired delivery-boy, though he wasn't surprised) he pulled up a stool at the end of the bar, where none of the already dying light bulbs held domain. "_You._"

A- well it wasn't spite, necessarily… fading would be the proper way to describe; a fading voice? Yes, a fading voice addressed Yazoo from above. "Yes, me." Dark chocolate eyes searched his own, no doubt performing a background check on any less-than-polite manners that could be hidden in those unnatural depths. The barmaid found none. Tense shoulders dropped, yet did not relax, and hard hands resumed cleaning a spotless mug. "…Well, what would you like?"

"Well, do you serve vodka?"

"It's a bar. Of course we do."

After a minute or so, he was presented with a glass of clear alcohol, "So, how are you?" The voice was genuinely curious, it was not a vain attempt at small talk. Yazoo took his time wondering about this, "I'm non existent- how about yourself." The hostess's eyes widened, before glazing over into an expression Yazoo could not very well identify. "I'm… disappearing." She answered dreamily, and stood without so much as a millimeter of moving from her place, before noticing a new customer calling for her attention, at which she gave Yazoo one last gaze and walked away. "So what will you be having tonight?" She asked the man in a fading voice.

Yazoo's ear picked up on the creaking sound of a door opening, oh great. He sat near the toilets. His posture worsened as he took another large sip of his beverage, feeling the sensation snaking down his throat and hissing in his stomach. "Did you follow me here?" No, not that voice. He didn't know if he had done anything wrong, but ever since he started showing up at the ShinRa HQ, the red-headed turk whom he was sure he'd some how made a little bit of ground on had started acting as if Yazoo was an enemy. Which he was not, Yazoo was no one. "As flattering as that may be for you, I'm sorry but I did not follow you here."

"So you're here coincidentally?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I find that hard to believe."

Yazoo choked out a cynical… something- not unlike a laugh, but polar opposites to the expression of happiness- it was monstrous, he hated whatever he'd just spat out, he was glad he didn't know what it was exactly.

"So do I."

Yazoo was sure he heard Reno mutter 'what the fuck' Before the red-head took the seat next to him, swaying a tad, probably due to previously consumed alcohol. "Come to drown your miseries?" He slurred, the previous sharp, suspicious edge blunted into nothing more than a half-drunkards words. "No, I don't have enough money for that."

"Touché."

The dry conversation ended there and was followed by the silence that far too often consumed Yazoo's afterlife leading the ex-wannabe-marauder to question if any of the fibers, tissues and neurons that made his wholeness existed truthfully. He had his doubts.

"Tifa, how about another drink?"

"Don't you think you've had enough 'another drinks', hmm Reno?"

"Too much is never enough, my lovely."

"That useless quote is going to be the end of you."

"Ah, but lovely Tifa, can you not see that lovely Reno here has already ended? He has been replaced by an evil bureaucrat slash insurance claim officer come building inspector. Reno is dead, gone, his ashes in the wind."

Tifa blinked, and succumbed to Reno's desires; "if another drink is what it takes for you to shut your depressed pie hole, then another drink it is."

Reno, happy with her response, simply flashed a fox-like grin. "I knew you'd see it my way, lovely."

After tapping his fingers, jigging his feet, shaking his legs, popping his neck more than once and going back to his original fiddling of tapping an off-tempo beat, Reno finally piled his unwanted attention on Yazoo's shoulders. "Y'know, I thought you worked at that fashion place… y'know… that place…"

Ugh, he was going to have to deal with a jerk, who was already in need of a few brain cells, killing off even more. Yazoo did not like the concept of maintaining conversation with the bumbling buffoon. "Only on weekends and the odd Friday. It's obviously Monday today" _because today was such a shit-sent twenty-four hours._

"Ho-how, how long has it been since we found out you were still on this blessing forsaken land?"

Abrupt change in conversation, wonderful, now if only he would pass out just as unexpectedly…

"Hmm, I don't know, four months…" he trailed off, surprised at himself. It's really been that long and here he was, still going about with absolutely no aim in life. The fine line between his topic of talk with Reno and his bleak view of his time surviving was blurring, undistinguishable.

"And, so, how come we haven't apprehe-apper… locked you up yet?"

"… I don't know, maybe because I'm nobody now, and you've lost interest." Yazoo meant it as a hollow little taunt, but the words came out spiteful and condescending. To himself or to Rufus, he wasn't sure. He was never sure anymore.

"You know what I reckon?" Reno's preferred poison had arrived in the form of black liquid, the red-head waving the brown bottle around as per average drunken stereotypes. All he needed was a cowboy hat and a pair of spurred boots, as well as a bulging belly- and he would be fit to star in those historical fantastical sitcoms set in Cosmo Canyon, deciding to humor the lost cowboy, Yazoo gave him a half lidded eye, "what, do you reckon, Reno?"

"I reckon… I reckon that you should have been the new recruit, instead of your friend… Bob, Phil… Marley… what the fuck ever." Reno took another misguided swig, ugly contaminated water streaming forth his mouth and creating a disgusting waterfall effect on his smooth pale chin. _Oh good, if he keeps this up he'll be slurring to the point of incoherence._

"I would have never accepted."

"But why not? Hmm?" He watched Reno's engorged Adam's apple bob, and watched the bolus of beer or something most likely stronger, advance down the long neck and disappear beneath a ridged collarbone.

"I'll give you one good guess." Yazoo drawled, not liking the direction this conversation was going, and what speed it was driving along.

"Yeah, I get that right… but don't you want something else? I mean, you said it in that coffee place… you live for danger, danger runs through your mother-frigid veins! Being part of the Turks, we can offer you that again!" Reno's voice was edging maniacal, his blood shot eyes widening, matching the growing grin, rosier cheeks hollowing into folded muscle. He reminded Yazoo of a clown, in every aspect (slang, derogatory, in proper occasions- such as right now- scary and so on…) of the word.

Yazoo offered a dry chuckle; it was the only thing he could give. His laughs were empty, his comedian sarcasm without substance, he was nothing. He was nobody. He couldn't even afford to get properly drunk, and become _something _for a night.

"And why would I want that? Look at yourself, Reno," He motioned to the unsteady body, "what do you see? Do you see an adrenaline-fueled, vigilante-of-sorts Turk? Do you see an action superstar? A figure to be feared, someone who demands respect and not an ounce less?" Reno ceased his mindless dancing, fixing a diamond hard glower on Yazoo. The nobody continued nonetheless. "Because I know that's not what you see, and I know that now how you perceive the mighty Turks, the _ShinRa Department of Administrative Research_ anymore. No one is fooling nobody. You (all) see yourselves the way others do, nobody else; rather than lowly little bureaucrats slash insurance claim officers come building inspectors. Not even worthy to be mentioned on, an albeit deteriorating, power chain." Yazoo did not know when the vindictive intent originated, or why he actually voices such malevolent though truthful opinions, his glass-less hand tensed, ready to counter any violent attack that Reno could spring on him, Yazoo surely provoked the unpredictable nitwit enough, he wouldn't blame him, and he was thirsting for something to stir up inside him. Anything to replace the otiose sentiment he suffered from.

The act never proceeded; Reno just stood still, a feat for the former hurricane of senselessness. Then he stiffly took his seat next to Yazoo, though they were worlds, eons apart, since Reno had ripped himself from this universe at that current moment, and downed the entire contents of the fresh bottle of death Tifa had known he would require sooner rather than later, in one perfectly aimed gulp and swallow.

The bottle, still chilled, still fashioning droplets of condensation, was just as lacking…

* * *

**AN:** Wasn't that long? I think you can draw the line where it went from light-hearted to sombre, really well. Like, its bolded. Oh well. Just to let you know, I've tried to incorporate s much symbolism and crap in this as possible, its the closes thing to proper novel-writing I've ever attempted. Though this first chapter is boring, it well establishes where everyone is at this point in time. The setting, the time everything should have been cleared up and stamped 'paid' in this chapter.  
Its 10 070 words. Yes, 10 070 words. 12+ pages long in Times New Roman, size 8 font. This was excruciating, and at the same time fulfilling to write. But it's really long. The next chapter is gonna be longer. And the plot won't be inching off the red blanket that obscures it from peering eyes until at least chapter 3.  
So yeah, read, review, make it seem like the hard work was just a bit worth it! Though it was awesome that when I started this fic I had like a typing speed of 53 words-per-minute, and now its like 77WPM! Haha! Improvement of like, 24 WPM baby! Yeyuhh! Oh and yes, before I forget;  
**THIS IS THE REPLACEMENT OF BURNING WONDERLAND**. No pairings at the moment, but I lust for Yazoo x Reno, though as far as my fingers can type and my eyes can bare to look at the radioactive computer glare, it shall only be _Yazoo & Reno centric. _Don't despair, the inner fangirl always wins. _Always.  
_**Edited 28th April 2008 for typos, spelling and grammatical errors- there's still going to be some but, no beta, MSWORD spellcheck and my incomprehensive brain still leave way too many gaps in the already faulty filter ! I edit and edit all over again alot though, so _someday, one day_- this will be perfect, until then excuse me. Also, I still haven't recived the order of plot-hole-filling I sent for ages ago. Sorry about that.**

**Kaht.**


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